


Stonewall

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-25
Updated: 2006-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: A look back at 2151 and values. (07/01/2002)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

"What are you looking at?"

"The future."

She turned and glanced at him, moving toward the window. She stared at the star curtain beyond the pane, a still unique experience for her and sighed.

"It's beautiful," she agreed. "I wonder if I'm ever going to be ready for it."

"You will be. I know it," Tucker replied. He smiled, glancing at her again. "We're just starting out."

"I know. We're a long way from home. I wonder ..."

"What?" he asked curiously.

"I wonder how many of us will be coming back."

***

Bridge...

He sat in his chair, the members of his senior staff working quietly at their stations. They were a mixed bag of new and experienced officers. His weapons officer, Malcolm Reed, doubled on ops. Reed's delight on "things go boom" was well known to him. They had used his talents already.

Reed, a quiet and shy man, was British. Archer liked having Europeans on board. The mixture of familiar cultures and continents seemed right. He was a professional, a dry and wry straight arrow. He also was dependable and smart, the right combination of characteristics for an open-ended journey such as theirs.

Hoshi Sato sat at her station, running programs to learn Suliban and to scan the cosmos for any sort of signal of life beyond their own plated hulls. She was very good, his personal choice and even though her confidence was in the early stages of construction, he had faith in her.

In front of him, flying the ship with skill was Travis Mayfield. Of all the crew, only he had experience with ships to any degree. A 'boomer', he had grown up flying on transport ships and knew the ways of space perhaps better than any of them. He was an asset to them on this unknown step into the uncharted outreaches of space.

Archer sighed deeply, his contentment rising with each light year that passed. Even the presence of his nemesis, Sub-commander T'Pol couldn't take away the feelings of joy that this simple act, the act of sitting on the Bridge of *his* ship could bring to him.

Sub-commander T'Pol worked quietly at her station, her new assignment to ops something that was sorted out after their initial sortie into regular service. Their differences, many and various, were between them each time they were together. She was the mirror opposite of him, even though there were times he swore that she had emotion.

Of course, she would rather cut out her tongue than agree. That was their thing, Vulcans. He found his dislike for them a powerful thing, something that he had to work on. It was a family thing, this negativity. It was honed on the gristmill of his father's disappointment. Even though his parents had not really expressed his father's frustrations and angst around him, he had noted it and assigned it to the people responsible in his mind for the waste of his father's professional life, the Vulcans.

They were cold and patronizing and his defenses rose like Everest at the first sight of them. He couldn't help himself. They *knew it all*. For a moment that school boy pulsed through him and then he felt slightly silly. Of course they did. They were *Vulcans*.

Sighing, he glanced around, contented with the sight of a smoothly functioning ship filled with professionals. It was a good omen for the future, he considered, a future that depended upon them getting along together and putting up with each other.

There were eighty-four people on this ship, most of them humans and they were dependent upon each other for safety, expertise and companionship. Friendships made here would be for life. He knew how that went. It was one of the bennies of being in Star Fleet.

Of course, he was sure that the Vulcans would disdain such things, companionship a black hole of emptiness in his mental database of their needs. Did they have friends? What kind of relationship could you have with an ice cube? He didn't know. He would never find out. T'Pol wasn't his cup of arsenic.

The afternoon wore on and the unfamiliar star field passed by, each kilometer of it new space for the Earth and her people. They were making trail for all who came next. For all the people that would follow, they would travel in their tentative and curious steps. It made him feel good.

***

Later that evening ...

He came out of the cabin, glancing around as he did. The corridor was nearly empty and he felt good about it. His private life was his own, a small and undisclosed patch in which to plant himself off duty. It had been a tentative acquisition, something sought out through time honored rituals. When the connection had been made, he had felt deep relief. He was not alone.

Walking to the lift, Malcolm Reed sighed. Being different had always been something he had recognized in himself. He had known it since he was old enough to speak. The difference was not something bandied about. It didn't keep you safe from the opinions and actions of others. It made things complicated and so he resolved, along with the other, to keep things among themselves. Stepping into the lift, he knew he had made the best decision possible for himself in the tight and claustrophobic world of a star ship.

Declaring his homosexuality, even in this day and age, was not something a man hoping for a long and distinguished career could do. The door closed, his visage disappearing along with his fears. Soon it was quiet again and life moved along. No one would know. No one would guess. For now.

***

Mess Hall, next day ...

He sat among many, listening to the conversations around him and he felt the pang that had filled him each time the subject came up. He sat listening, hidden behind his British reserve and felt diminished. They were talking about love and about women. That part didn't bother him. It was the part about substituting others for female companionship that hurt.

You have to admit that our voyage is rather like being in prison," an officer said.

Tucker smiled. "Or a monastery. Of course, if you really wanted to get laid there must be men around here that would accommodate you."

Malcolm looked at the man second in command of the ship. It was the same old story. Glib humor at his expense. Other men were smiling and nodding.

"After all it isn't like the male-female ratio on this ship is going to be adequate for a five year tour," he continued. "We're going to have to make adjustments."

"I don't think I can adjust that far," another said, some crewman from engineering.

"Why?"

All eyes turned toward him and he felt the heat. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. Tucker shrugged.

"For most of us it isn't natural."

Malcolm considered his words. /... natural .../ "The last species we were with, they were androgynous. I think that sexuality is irrelevant to personal worth."

It was silent a moment and then Tucker shrugged again. "I suppose it is for most people but not for me. I find that my sexual identity is pretty set. I expect that we'll find all kinds of strange things out here."

"You consider non-heterosexual orientations strange?" Malcolm persisted.

Tucker paused. "For me, yeah. For someone else, maybe not. I don't know. I never gave it much thought."

"I don't like homosexuality. I know we're supposed to be open and all that but the idea of it, the practice of it, it makes me feel sickly," the crewman said, a look of disdain on his face.

Malcolm sat back, folding his arms. "Curious attitude for someone assigned to a deep space probe. It would seem our attitudes are at odds with our mission."

"My personal attitudes have nothing to do with my effectiveness, Lieutenant," the crewman countered. "I won't allow them to interfere with my ability to do my job."

"What if we run into a species where their sexuality is say, predominantly homosexual? What then?" Malcolm persisted.

It was silent for a moment. Then the crewman sighed. "How would they reproduce?"

"Cloning perhaps," Malcolm persisted. "There are many ways to reproduce. Besides, sexuality has little to do with the biological drive to maintain the species."

Tucker snorted. "This is all academic. Besides, I had always heard that the British were repressed sexually. Victorian and all that."

There were smiles and snickers. Malcolm looked at them and sighed.

"You have no idea how sexual the Victorians were. Besides, this is now. I'm just curious how at this stage of our development, when we're on the edge of expanding our capacity to know and change that we can be so repressed and narrow-minded. It astonishes me to listen to some of the comments here."

It was silent for a moment and then Tucker cleared his throat.

"Rome wasn't built in a day. Just because we're here doesn't mean we're going to give up being human, for the good and bad of it. At least not overnight anyway."

"I think there are things we can stand to lose, homophobia being one of them. If we're going to represent our species, I would think doing so with integrity would be our duty."

"Then, if we dislike homosexuality, we have no integrity? Is that what you're saying?" the crewman asked, a frown forming on his face.

"I'm saying that hatred in all its forms is hatred and has no place in an enlightened society. As Sub-commander T'Pol would say, it's illogical. And ... in my humble 'repressed British opinion' ... it's damned stupid."

For a moment there was no sound and then Tucker sighed.

"We all can't be bigger than our moment, Malcolm," Tucker said. "Even if we want to we're still human and that means we still bear all the bad with the good."

"That implies that we can't be better than we are. I think this ship states emphatically that we can be. It goes against the struggle of our species to get here to imply that we can't lose those things that don't matter. Consider what we've done to get here. I can't believe that holding onto prejudice is something we still have to deal with at this late stage in our development."

"Prejudice," the crewman said. "You must be a more highly evolved man than I am, Lieutenant."

Malcolm looked at him, sighing. "No. I just choose not to hate today."

For a moment it was quiet and then Malcolm stood, gathering his lunch gear together. He turned and walked away, dumping it into the collection bin. They watched him as he left.

"That was interesting," the crewman finally ventured. "I wonder ..."

Tucker looked at him. "What?"

"I wonder if he's gay."

"Would it matter?" Tucker asked, musing on the implications.

For a moment it was silent and then the crewman shrugged.

"It would bother me. Yeah ... I admit it. I would be bothered."

"Why?" Tucker asked, leaning back with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"I don't know ... maybe the idea of being naked in the shower with someone who gets turned on by naked men has something to do with it."

Tucker considered his words. "If Reed was gay, and I'm not saying he is, would you work with him at the same level as you would with a straight person?"

"Of course! My personal feelings about their sexual orientation would have nothing to do with my responsibility to the ship and the crew."

"Okay. What about personally? Would you be friends with gay people?" Tucker persisted.

The crewman looked at him and then smiled. "What's this? I feel like I'm being interrogated."

"I'm just curious. I wonder, would you knowingly have gay friends?"

"No. Probably not. I'd never feel comfortable."

Tucker sat back, sighing. "Interesting. I wonder how many gay people there are on this ship? The odds are we have some. I wonder what it would feel like living a lie?"

There was no comment and for a moment they just sat. Then the comm link buzzed.

"Engineering to Tucker."

"Tucker here."

"We need you in main engineering."

"On my way." He rose and gathered his things. "Duty calls."

He walked away and they watched him. Then the crewman sighed.

"I wonder if Reed is gay?"

Another shrugged. "I don't care. Just don't tell me about it, I say."

"Me too," another replied.

Then the conversation shifted and the moment passed.

***

Late that night...

It was quiet and they lay together, satisfied and content. Strong hands stroked his back and Malcolm felt relaxed for the first time since lunch. The conversation there had unsettled him and he had come to his lover, taking out his anxieties in the moment.

They had made love, hard and long and when they lay exhausted upon each other, his lover's body sprawled on top of him, Malcolm felt the last vestiges of his discontent slip away. They lay together silently and then his lover rolled off, lying back on the bed satiated.

"You're very quiet tonight."

Malcolm sighed. "I had a conversation in which sexual orientation somehow reared its ugly head."

His lover nodded. "And?"

"I felt like a leper."

It was quiet a moment and then his lover moved, leaning over Malcolm as he lay on his stomach. Leaning down, he kissed Malcolm's shoulder. The skin tasted salty and he sighed as he slowly slid his hand down the slim younger man's back, rounding the curve of his ass and resting on his thigh. It felt good after a hard day to unwind with someone, with this someone.

"Don't. Don't feel badly. It doesn't matter now and someday it will stop mattering to everyone else."

"When?" Malcolm replied softly, sighing with the pleasure of his lover's touch.

Jonathan Archer paused, considering Malcolm's wistful question.

"Soon," he replied. "I have to believe it."

Malcolm raised his head. "Good. I'll believe it too then."

Jonathan smiled. "Good," he said, leaning down to kiss Malcolm softly. "Good."

It was quiet after that for a long time.


End file.
